In These Dark Times
by Tarhiliel
Summary: Grima's thoughts during the War of the Ring.


Main Characters: Grima Wormtongue   
  
Rating: PG   
  
Pairings: N/A   
  
Genre: Drama   
  
Length: Short story   
  
Summary: Grima's thoughts during the War of the Ring   
  
In these dark times, a wise man would be wondering how to remain sane, how to choose the next action or how to control his contrary emotions such as mine. But not me, for I am no wise man, nor anything near one.   
  
Pitiful, sad, some would say, if by chance they sought me lying here with no will of my own.   
  
For years I wandered about the dark rooms of Isengard. They look nothing like I envisioned in my thoughts when I was young. When I was pure.   
  
Folk used to tell that the Great Rooms of Isengard were full of echoes. Echoes of Saruman's voice, that like no other spread eternally in every place and mind. And beautiful, in their dark blue curtains and cold shiny floor, with no records of any steps, even though many there have been.   
  
But now that I am here, a prisoner, for only death would be my freedom, I see no such thing. The only vision my eyes allow me to have is evil. I am evil now.   
  
Saruman does not allow light in the rooms anymore, for it reminds him of his good times, and he does not need such thoughts in the moment. And the floor, perhaps only in my filthy room, is full of Orc residues.   
  
Orcs are the only living beings that I have ever seen around the halls of the tower. It is strange how they are so extremely different but yet peculiarly similar. They speak in no language of my knowledge, and they are slaves, with nothing in their minds but man flesh.   
  
If someone would ask it of me, I would say this place is worse than the Dark Lands of Mordor, for there you go and die, and here you linger in endless pain.   
  
I can still recall my days in The Golden Hall. My work was of no more purity than it is now, but there was one thing, one small thing that made all the bad things simply disappear.   
  
One thing that made me consider the power of good, and made me have dreams that are hard to describe, for they were beautiful like an elven song, soft, endless, painless.   
  
The White Lady of Rohan it was. I could feel her coldness and her need to be free. Oh, how I wanted to set her free, run away with her, far away, to unsung lands, and there lie forever in her arms.   
  
But it seemed to me that she caged herself. She looked at me with disgust, though never with fear. Perhaps she saw my true face, my intentions with Rohan. But that was not what I wanted her to see, I wanted her to see the part of me that was just like her. Looking for something.   
  
It is of nobody's knowledge, but there is one man that still remains in The Golden Hall that works for Saruman, though he does not do what I once did. He stands still and listens.   
  
No useful information for Saruman he has brought yet, but he often tells me about Lady Éowyn. His last news were like all the others. She is in pain, like me. He tells me that she loves Aragorn, Isilduir's heir. How can she? How can someone high, powerful, beautiful, and noble love that Ranger? I see nothing in him but tricks. Perhaps he is just like me also. Then why him but not me?   
  
I also heard he is engaged to the most beautiful she-elf that lays on Arda, Arwen Evenstar, the daughter of some King Elf that carries one of the Rings of power.   
  
The Rings of Power. Why trust them with Elves? Though I could care less, for I know that all of this will end in death. I have no future. My denial is of no worth, I am evil. And the evidence is this, me, laying in the tower of Isengard, awaiting orders from Saruman, who is also evil. I know he will not achieve his goal, for he wants the Ring for himself and plans to trick Sauron, the Lord of all Evil. Though it might sound smart, it is foolish, for the Ring answers to Sauron alone.   
  
Right now I am like I was days ago. Physically, still here. Mentally, everywhere. There is an Orc that stands still by my door, staring at the floor. I mean to send him away, but I am in no higher place than he is, for we are both nothing.   
  
If my suffering is unescapable, how can I end someone else's? The only pain I can think of is the pain of my White Lady, and that is caused by a she-elf that lies in the woods of Rivendell with nothing but hope. How can I end it? If by any way I could go there, I would.   
  
Perhaps I can.   
  
Nay, not me, a mere mortal. But if I could, I would go deep into Rivendell, and kill her with my own hands. Make her scream, beg for her endless life not to be taken away from her. Beg for her beauty not to be ended. Beg for her heart to remain selfish and beg for her future to remain perfect.   
  
But her begging would not be of any effect in me, for I would be killing her for my own heart. And after I killed her, I would run to the Golden Hall and cry the news to my Lady of Rohan, and we would be together, for she would love me after realizing Aragorn was of no worth.   
  
But since I cannot, I will just be wandering. In these dark times, for I am also dark and have chosen the path of Evil. Though now it may not seem like it will happen, someday Grima Wormtongue will be remembered for his qualities.   
  
Now my thoughts must end, for Saruman, my master, calls me.   
  
This is how I live. In these dark times. 


End file.
